Water in the Desert
by Wordmage Kazzidae
Summary: After the incident that nearly claimed Sivir's life and led to Azir becoming Ascended, Azir takes Sivir back to his city to let her recover. This is what happens when she wakes.
Sivir awoke to a room unlike most she'd woken up in before. The ceilings to which she opened her eyes were often cracked and dilapidated, neglected by inn-keepers who were more concerned about how much money they could get out of their guests than how much they could put into housekeeping. This was a room that looked as though it had been meticulously carved out of finest sandstone, which struck Sivir as odd: sandstone was not a material commonly used in construction, yet here she was in a room made of it that had not fallen down and buried her in it. The sandy texture was a common theme, she discovered as she sat up: the furniture gave a good appearance of being made of wood, but the odd granularity of its surface soon gave away its true nature. The bed in which she'd slept was the only exception, surprisingly; the mattress and pillow were pleasantly soft, the sheets woven of a fine fabric befitting of such royal surroundings.

"I hope you have slept well, O child of my blood."

The voice that greeted Sivir as she sat was not that of a normal human, not by any stretch of the imagination. Sivir was used to hearing voices that had strange echoes or unnatural rumbles to them, such was the wild ride that her life had become, but this one was new to her. It was the voice of a man, she was certain of that much, but what kind of man?

"You can't be either of my parents," said Sivir, affecting a nonchalant attitude in spite of her curiosity. "They're both dead."

"It matters not how we are related," said the voice with a touch of impatience. "Royal blood flows in your veins, the same that flows in mine. Separated though we may be by many generations and many more years, it is undeniable: you are a scion of my line, an heiress to my throne."

Such grand words. Sivir finally allowed herself to look towards the corner from which the voice came. There she saw a man, seated and entirely at ease – and yet, although his body was clearly that of a man, it was the eyes of a hawk that looked back at her, a large, curved beak in place of his mouth. A set of golden armour lay on the table beside him, an ornate staff resting against the wall next to it.

"You…" Sivir furrowed her brow with the effort of recollection. "I saw you in my dream."

"That was no dream, child," said the hawk-headed man. "What you saw was my Ascension: the culmination of the destiny that was almost robbed from me, all those years ago. I found you on the very threshold of death, your lifeblood seeping out of you. It is thanks to you that I have returned, saving you from death by placing your body in the holy waters of the Oasis of the Dawn. With that act, the gods saw fit to complete my Ascension, transforming me into the being you see before you now."

"Ascension…" Sivir took a moment to digest this. She had no reason to doubt what the hawk-headed man said: she remembered all too clearly the moment when that traitorous Noxian stabbed her in the back and left her for dead. Nothing short of a miracle could have pulled her out of that bind. As impossible as it sounded, there was no other explanation. "So the stories must be true. They say a giant jackal-headed man still wanders the desert, a survivor of the Old Empire."

The hawk-headed man's eyes flashed. "Jackal-headed? Was there any mention of a man bearing the resemblance of a crocodile?"

"Not that I've heard," said Sivir, taking note of this sudden pique of interest. "They're supposed to be myths, old fairytales that no-one really believes. What I saw down in that tomb, though… it made a strange kind of sense."

"The blood remembers. It calls to you, with a voice stronger than instinct."

Sivir wanted to say that he was raving mad, but after all that had happened she found it difficult to deny. Besides, if he was crazy for calling her his descendant, how crazy was she for sitting here and talking to a hawk-headed man?

"I have only just begun to rebuild my empire, but it is a comfort to me to know that one of my bloodline yet lives," he said, standing and crossing the room to stand in front of Sivir. "I wish to know your name, my child."

"You first." Sivir gave him a crooked grin. She could tell from the way the man reacted that he wasn't used to having his orders countermanded, but he bore it with good grace, perhaps because of her status as his relative.

"I am Azir, the Emperor of Shurima. You may call me by my name, if you wish: that is a privilege accorded to those of my blood. Now, yours."

"Sivir. I suppose since you've come back, I'm technically a princess of your empire?" asked Sivir drily.

"That is correct – the only heir, as far as I know."

"But if the tales are anything to go by, you Ascended are supposed to be immortal. There isn't much point in me waiting around to be Empress if there's no way I can outlive you," she said, giving Azir a wry smirk.

"Immortal? No. No, we are not. Long-lived, yes, but all that lives can die." Azir's face grew dark. "I used to think that the Empire itself was immortal, that its glory would shine on forever… and yet it was brought to its knees by one man, all in a single instant."

"The stories say it was your arrogance that caused its downfall," said Sivir, completely unafraid of Azir despite the sheer power that radiated from his Ascended form, "that you were the one responsible for the deaths of all those in the city."

Azir bridled momentarily, but held his resentment in check. "I was not the one responsible – I would never knowingly have subjected my Empire to such peril – but… there may be some truth in what you say. My… pride… has cost me much. Perhaps if I had been a bit more open, a bit more trusting… this would never have happened."

A moment passed in silence. Sivir merely watched as Azir looked with eyes that saw only visions of the past. Although she was curious, she knew not to pry: this was as far down the rabbit hole as Sivir was willing to go.

"So," said Sivir suddenly, snapping Azir out of his trance. "As I understand it, I brought you back to life, then you saved mine. That means we're square. I don't owe you anything and you don't owe me."

"Owe?" Azir said the word strangely, as though the idea hadn't occurred to him. "We are of the same blood. It is only natural that we should protect one another."

"I know where this is going," said Sivir, shaking her head and taking her feet that she could look at Azir on the level. "You're going to talk to me about duty, aren't you? About responsibility and all that trash. As grateful as I am to you for not leaving me to die in the dust, I make a point of having as few attachments as possible. Every connection is another weakness, another vulnerability to exploit. Besides… did you think I was going to trust you, just because of this weird feeling that we're related?"

"Why would you not?" asked Azir, clearly confused by the tack Sivir was taking. "It is your destiny to help shape the Empire. As one of my blood, you cannot deny our calling."

"I can and I will," said Sivir simply. "I have a life beyond you, beyond this Empire of yours. I'm not going to drop everything just because you suddenly turned up. I've survived on my own all these years. I have no intention of changing that now."

Azir looked at her, his unnaturally large hawk's eyes glinting. "You said your parents are dead. That you have no connections. Have you spent your entire life alone?"

"The few people I've had the misfortune of crossing paths with were either worthless or traitors," said Sivir harshly. "They're only worth the gold I can get out of them."

Azir laughed – a short, brash laugh. "Gold? If gold is what you want, I can get you plenty of that – enough to bury yourself in it, should you so wish. As a Princess of my Empire, you would want for nothing."

"So what are you offering me?" asked Sivir, humouring him. "Banquets every day? Servants to wait on me hand and foot? A palace all to myself?"

"Is material wealth all you can think of?" asked Azir disapprovingly.

"It's the only thing that means anything," Sivir answered levelly. "Empires come and go. Gold stays."

The two stared at each other, long and hard. Sivir very much doubted that Azir would resort to violence, but she could see the rage apparent in his eyes.

"…I had hoped that a child of my line would be more… noble," said Azir eventually. "I can only assume that the low circumstances of your birth have corrupted your blood and turned your mind to less than honourable purposes."

Sivir smirked. "I used to serve someone who believed in honour, once upon a time. It didn't work out well for her."

"You didn't kill her, did you?" The horror in Azir's voice was only thinly veiled.

Sivir looked away, remembering that forlorn figure she'd left in the desert with nary more than a sip of water and spiteful coin to remember her by. "No. But I probably should have."

"Should have? Do you mean… you couldn't bring yourself to?"

Sivir gave Azir a dangerous look. He understood what it meant without asking.

"I am willing to overlook your past mistakes, Sivir: compared to the errors that I have made, they are as dust in the wind. But that does not change the fact of your lineage: you are irrevocably bound to the future of this Empire, for good or ill. If you run, it will chase you."

"I can run pretty fast."

"Can you outrun destiny?"

Sivir laughed hollowly. "I've heard some ridiculous questions in my time, but that might just top them all."

Azir gave no reply save a long, cool stare directly into Sivir's eyes. Sivir was beginning to understand the kind of conviction that drove Azir, the absolute and unswerving vision he had for his future. That was all well and good – except that now, that future included her.

Azir broke the stare, returning to his seat in the corner. "That being said, I will not keep you. If you wish to leave, do so. As one of royal blood, you will always be welcome here, should you wish to return."

"Don't count on it."

"I don't need to. In time, my Empire will return to its former glory: I will unite the people of Shurima once more and under my reign they will flourish as they once did. Everywhere you go, you will see signs of my influence. The longer you stay away, the more you will suffer." Azir said this not in a vengeful tone, but a sorrowful one. Somehow, this pity enraged Sivir more than hostility would have done.

"You really are in love with your own legend, aren't you?" she fired back scathingly, advancing on Azir. "Do you truly think that all of Shurima revolves around you, that the people you left in the dust those long ages ago will simply welcome you back, like a housebound dog greeting its master at the door? All of the tribes know the stories: they know how your Empire fell. They won't trust you any more than I do."

In the face of Sivir's withering tirade, Azir's response was cool as could be. "One who renounces a royal position has no right to speak on behalf of the people."

Sivir glared furiously at Azir, her sense of restraint only just holding her back from taking a swing at him. He had no nose to break, but it would be interesting to see whether that beak could crack.

"Although… I have learned one good thing from this exchange," said Azir reflectively.

"Oh? Do tell."

"As unlike me as you are… you've still inherited my stupidly fierce pride." Azir smiled an odd smile and looked across at Sivir, genuinely and without rancour. "At this moment in time, we are both alone in the world. We have both been betrayed. We have both been given another chance. It is your choice, to stand with me or not – but for your own sake, please do not let this chance go to waste. Whatever you do… do so knowing that it is right."

Azir reached out a hand towards Sivir: a human hand, with fingers and skin. Feeling oddly compelled, Sivir took a hold of it. His skin was warm to the touch, pleasantly so, as though he had been basking in the sun despite being indoors.

"Let us put our regrets behind us, O daughter of my blood," he said solemnly. "Let our futures be bright in the sun's radiance."

Sivir knew that she should be walking away from the accursed city of sand even now. She didn't know what it was that made her stay and listen to this witless bird's words and it infuriated her.

"The only regret I've ever had is allowing myself to trust someone. I left that behind a long time ago."

Sivir tore her hand from Azir's and walked away without another word, pausing only to snatch up her crossblade as she went. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt conflicted in her purpose: all that she knew for certain was that she had to get away from this empty city built of and on sand, from Azir and his words that made her question her place in the world.

Azir let his hand fall, a slight frown indicating that perhaps not all of his regrets were behind him. Still, he was true to his word: he would not hinder Sivir's departure, if that was what she wished. With or without her, he would continue in his sacred task of rebuilding the Empire. If what she'd said about the jackal-headed man was true, there were others out there in the sands who would aid him in this task.

But as one who believed absolutely in the call of destiny, Azir could not shake the feeling that Sivir yet had a part to play. He wished that he could say it was a good one, but after seeing the storm in her soul it was difficult to say for sure.

Azir's meditations were interrupted by a simple but startling realisation: he hadn't offered Sivir a drink of water. Of all the forms of hospitality that one could offer in Shurima, this was surely the most basic. He could not bring her back now, but perhaps he didn't need to.

Azir's return had brought not only sand, but also water. As his life had returned, so had life returned to the desert. If there was a way to show the people that he was to be trusted, surely it was to give life to them.

Piece by piece, Azir donned his golden armour. First, he had to find what had become of Nasus and Renekton. With their help, he could easily undam the waters that pooled in the citadel. After that, the waters would flow – and with them, hope. Azir decided that of all the things Sivir needed this was the most crucial. No matter how lost she became, all she'd ever need to do was follow the rivers back.

Azir paused as he headed out the door, looking sideways at the bed in which Sivir had recovered from her experience in the tomb. He tightened his grip on his staff.

"I lost a brother once, because I did not give him hope. I will not lose a daughter in the same way."


End file.
